The Outpost in the Storm

After last night's storms, this parable from Bishop Michael Curry's book, Crazy Christians, seems appropriate for us to consider.

"A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the [disciples’] boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But [Jesus] was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” (Mark 4: 37–39) 

The Rev. Canon Theodore Wedel, former warden of the College of Preachers at the Washington Cathedral, tells a parable that begins with these words: “On a dangerous sea coast where shipwrecks often occur, there was a crude little lifesaving station. The building was just a hut, and there was only one boat, but the few devoted members kept a constant watch over the sea, and with no thought for themselves they went out day and night tirelessly searching for the lost.”  

As the parable develops, the lifesaving crew members become known for their bravery and commitment. Others join them in the mission. The lifesaving station starts to grow. Then some supporters become concerned about the dilapidated appearance of the station building and the lifesaving boats. They redecorate and spruce things up. They buy modern new boats. 

As time goes by, the emphasis of the mission begins to change. They start referring to the lifesaving station as the lifesaving society. Instead of going on rescue missions themselves, members of the society hire specialized rescue crews to actually go out to sea. To keep the redecorated station decent and clean, they build another building to house the people who have been rescued. 

After a while, most have forgotten that lifesaving once was the community’s core activity. Those few who do remember—or care—install a symbolic lifeboat in the room where they hold initiation ceremonies for new members. Other lifesaving stations spring up along the coast, but the same things happen—each one, after a while, becomes a lifesaving society. 

Canon Wedel ends the parable with these words: “Shipwrecks are still frequent in those waters, but now most of the people drown.” 

Are we allowing people to drown from the safety of our clean, neatly decorated buildings?  Have we "symobolized" our mission?  These are tough questions to ask ourselves in Lent but necessary ones.  

A prayer from Walter Brueggemann:

God of heaven and lord of earth,

Tamer of heaven, lover of earth,

sovereign over the waters that surge,

provider for birds, beast, and fish,

chooser of Israel and commander of all humanity.

Your vistas remind us

of how close and small we keep our horizons,

how much we blink at your power, and wince from your justice,

how much we waver in the face of your commanding mercy.

You, you, you only, you, God of heaven and lord of earth.

Comes the rain upon our parade,

and the floods upon our nations,

and the winds upon our personal configurations,

Comes your shattering and your reconfiguring

in ways we doubt or we fear.

We discover yet again, how sandy we are,

with quaking of our foundations

and our fantasized firmaments.

We are filled with trembling and nightmares that disturb.

And then you-rock-solid-stable-reliable-sure

You rock against our sand,

You rock of ages,

You rock that is higher than us treading water,

You rock of compassion--

be compassionate even for us, our loved ones

and all our needy neighbors.

You rock of abidingness for our sick,

and for those long loved, lingering memories,

dead and in your care,

You rock of justice for the nations,

fed up with our hate,

exhausted by our greed of our several tribes,

You rock of communion in our loneliness,

rock of graciousness in our many modes of gracelessness.

Come be present even here and there, and there and there,

Move us from our sandy certitudes to your grace-filled risk,

Move us to become more rock-like

in compassion and abidingness and justice,

Move us to be more like you in our neighborliness

and in our self-regard.

Yes, yes, yes--move us that we may finally 

stand on solid rock, no more sinking sand.

God of heaven, Lord of earth, 

hear our resolve, heal our unresolve,

that we may finish in sure trust and in glad obedience.

We already know what to do by our careful pondering of you.

Amen.